


Lost In The Heat Of It All

by iwanttowriteyouafic



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Zayn, Dom Liam, Fingering, I'll get around to that eventually, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Riding, Rimming, Top Liam, Virgin Zayn, blowjob, this is completly uneditted, underaged zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:32:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5719459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanttowriteyouafic/pseuds/iwanttowriteyouafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Zayn was standing outside the back entrance waiting, it occurred to him that he just stole his father’s possible business associate away from him."</p><p> </p><p>(Or the one where Liam is a millionaire club owner, and Zayn is the son of his biggest competition.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost In The Heat Of It All

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the millionaire!Liam fic as requested :) It's based off two photos I saw on Tumblr and my own perverted imagination. I sort of have no idea how to link things on here, so if anyone knows how pls explain it to me so I can properly credit people where it's due. Also title comes from the song "Lost" by Frank Ocean xx
> 
> *** PLEASE DO NOT REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS ON OTHER SITES WITHOUT GETTING MY PERMISSION FIRST. Do not post copies of my work on livejournal, wattpad, fanfiction.net or anywhere, even if you have the intention of giving me credit. I do not want them on those sites at this point in time. So far, I have only given permission for my fic 'Pride' to be translated into Russian and posted on a Russian fanfiction website. Any other copies of my work that I come across will be reported. Please don't do it. It really sucks that I have to even write this note. ***

“You’re being ridiculous, Zayn.”

“You’re the one being ridiculous,” Zayn all but snarled at his mother. “I don’t want to fucking go.”

“Language, Zayn!” Trisha snapped. “And I don’t care if you don’t want to go. It’s your father’s party and he needs us all there, as a family.”

Zayn wanted to stomp his feet in frustration. He was damn near close. “Dad has a party every other week, why can’t I just miss one?”

“Not tonight, Zayn,” Trisha sighed. “Next time, I promise you can stay home. But not tonight.”

Zayn actually did stomp his foot at this point. Trisha left the room with a sigh, closing the door before Zayn was able to slam it. He fell back onto his bed, scowling when his hand landed on the outfit that had been set out for him. It was beyond stupid: tight white button-down long sleeve shirt, some sort of designer chinos, and a thin matte tie that made absolutely no sense with the outfit but was apparently the new fashion. He looked over to his phone on the bedside table, where Niall’s invite to smoke a bowl had gone unanswered. 

When some member of staff or another knocked on his door to remind him they were leaving soon, Zayn swallowed his anger and got dressed. Shirt tucked in, laces done and hair styled, Zayn was ready to go. But, unable to help himself, he stayed in his room playing games on his phone until his dad’s personal assistant stormed in and stole his phone.

“You can’t do that!” Zayn exclaimed, lunging for his phone. 

“Uh, yes I can,” Louis said. He kept the phone out of reach and waited until Zayn had given up before slipping the device into his back pocket. “I’ll give it back to you once you’re allowed to leave the party.” 

Zayn’s jaw dropped in horror. “I can’t have my phone at the party?”

Louis shrugged. “Socialise, bitch.” 

“I don’t think my father would appreciate you calling me a bitch,” Zayn said, crossing his arms. “We pay you. You’re my bitch.”

“I’m your dad’s bitch,” Louis corrected. “And by the time I quit this job I’ll have earned half your inheritance, so I don’t care.” 

Zayn scoffed at this. Louis adjusted his watch, gave him a tight, condescending smile, then left the room again. “Be down in two minutes or I’ll tell the bartenders not to serve you,” he called as he left.

Zayn grumbled all the way downstairs, blazer hung over his shoulder. Truthfully, he quite liked Louis and how he wasn’t mindless like the rest of the staff. But he could really be a dick sometimes, so Zayn has no intention of ever telling him. 

Zayn piled into one of the cars, his father and Louis across from him. He saw his sisters and mother pile into a second car, dressed to impress. It was unnerving to see someone as young as Safaa being dolled up. Zayn hated how their lives revolved around appearance. He also loved how the cameras always made him look good, fearing his father’s wrath if he were to have a bad photo printed. 

“Tonight’s really important, Zayn,” Yaser said, rubbing his hands together in excitement. Zayn hummed noncommittally, looking out the window. Through the reflection he could see his father frowning. “Zayn, can you pay attention?”

Zayn looked over, eyes flat with nonchalance. His father sighed. 

“Liam Payne will be there tonight,” Yaser told him.

Zayn raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Liam Payne,” Louis repeated for his boss. “CEO of the Payne industries.”

Zayn cocked his head to the side.

Louis sighed in exasperation, looking at Zayn like he was an idiot. “He’s the millionaire who owns all the clubs and hotels your father doesn’t.”

Zayn just shrugged at this. “So?”

“So Payne and I are going to be negotiating a possible merger over the next few weeks,” Yaser explained. “But first we need to wow him with the party tonight. He’s only going to agree if he sees potential in my clubs.”

“So you need me there to…?” Zayn asked slowly. He saw Louis roll his eyes and decided to ignore him. 

“For support,” his father said. “And because we look better in the press as a family.”

Ah, of course. Zayn was there for publicity. 

The drive was short and silent. Without a phone, Zayn was forced to just stare out the window aimlessly. He couldn’t even listen to some music because his father hated having the radio on, and Zayn hadn’t thought to bring his iPod. For a fucking club owner, his father sure did hate music. He liked Harry, though, and Zayn was hopeful that the boy would be DJ tonight. 

When they arrived there were cameras flashing everywhere. A lot of big names were coming tonight, apparently, if the abundance of security and rolled out white carpet was any indication. Yaser stepped out first, grinning at the paparazzi while Zayn climbed out after him. Louis stayed in the car like always. Zayn knew he’d be coming in through a different entrance where he wouldn’t be messing up the Malik family photos. 

The other car showed up seconds after theirs pulled away. The driver came around to open the door, and then Yaser held his wife’s hand to steady her as she slid out of the car. Zayn followed his lead, shifting into Perfect Son Mode and helping his sisters out of the car one-by-one. Doniya smirked at him when he held out his hand for her. He made sure his back was to the paps before he mouthed ‘shut the fuck up’. 

He plastered an easy grin on his face as they walked up the club and towards the entrance. The bodyguards just nodded at them, looking far too intimidating for glorified door bitches. He thinks he saw Waliya swoon at the younger one, but when he looked over she was adamantly staring ahead. Trisha watched them suspiciously. 

Inside was dark but illuminated by a plethora of lights. Black lights lined the walls and made Safaa’s dress glow. The cups all had neon rims, colour-coded depending on the type of drink – cocktail, spirit, virgin – and glowing against the sleek black tables and charcoal couches that lined the tall walls of the club. A purple-rimmed drink was almost immediately offered to Zayn. Straight coke. Zayn made a mental note to avoid purple cups. 

The dancefloor was already filling with thriving bodies, and as Zayn had hoped Harry Styles was in the DJ booth, his long curls giving away his person even from so far away. The waiters were dressed in completely white uniforms with the club’s name sprayed across the front in bright paint. (Zayn highly suspects that this is a result of Yasser finding his graffiti designs a few weeks back, but his father has denied his questions about it every time Zayn brings it up. Still, Zayn can’t help but smile into his drink from the sight.)

No sooner had they stepped through the door, Zayn’s family members were separating. Doniya eyed her boyfriend, and may a bee-line for his lap. Waliya and Safaa were immediately escorted by security into the VIP area, where they could be properly monitored so that neither of them were given drinks or got lost in the throng of people way too old for them. Preston nodded for Zayn to come, too, but Yaser shook his head with a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. 

“He’s with me tonight,” Yaser yelled over the music. “Just tell the bartenders not to serve him unless he’s with someone.”

Preston nodded before walking away, lifting his wrist to bark Yaser’s orders into his microphone. Waliya looked especially sour as she and her sister were ushered upstairs. She had obviously spotted Justin Bieber sitting a few booths away. 

“Come on, kid,” Yaser said, propelling Zayn through the crowd with hands firmly on his shoulders. Hands reached out to run along Zayn’s body, girls smiling coyly and boys raising eyebrows in interest. Zayn smirks easily, but doesn’t give any of them the time of day. Not now, at least, with his father physically holding him back. 

“Where are we going?” Zayn asked. He had to repeat it twice before his father was able to hear him. 

“You’re going to meet Mr Payne with me,” Yaser announced, patting his shoulders encouragingly before letting go all together. They were walking towards a group of tall men, all of whom were dressed in designer suits. 

Zayn groaned out loud. He hoped his dad heard him. “Why do I have to meet him?”

“Because it’ll be good for you,” his father answered flatly. “You’ll be finishing school soon, and I want you to meet all the right people before you join the company.”

“What if I don’t want to join the company?” Zayn asks, just to be difficult. His father gave him a disapproving look like he knew what he was doing, but didn’t get to say anything because suddenly one of the old men had noticed them.

“Yaser!” he greeted, hand immediately being drawn for a handshake. 

“George, how are you?” Yaser returned easily. He gestured to Zayn. “You know my son.”

“Of course, of course,” George said. He didn’t offer his hand to Zayn. “How old would you be now? Thirteen, fourteen?”

“I’m eighteen in January,” Zayn said a little snappishly. His father side-eyed him so he grinned tightly and bit his tongue before he could ask the old geezer how old he is. 

“Zayn, George Kerrington is a member of the board,” Yaser introduced. Zayn didn’t know what the board did or why they were important, but the look on his father’s face told him not to ask right now. 

“Nice to meet you,” Zayn said, only barely still smiling. He looked at the other men, all easily fifty years old, and wondered which one was Mr Payne.

Yaser was looking at the group considerably, too. “And where is Liam?”

“Probably past his bed time,” one of the men smirked. The others all snickered into their glasses of rum and bourbon and other Very Manly Drinks. 

“Not making a great first impression, is he?” George raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be trying to make a point of something.

“Oh, I’ve met him before,” Yaser dismissed. “When he was a child. His father was a good man.”

“Yaser, I’m not going to lie, myself and the rest of the board are a bit… concerned about this possible merger,” George said carefully. His eyes briefly looked down at Zayn before flicking back up to his father. “He doesn’t have the greatest experience, and only inherited the company a couple years ago-“

“And their stocks have risen,” Yaser cut in. “The man has good taste in business, and now I want to see if we can work together to make some money- oh, here he comes now.”

Zayn looked over to where his father was nodding to. A man – mid-twenties, maybe – had just entered the club, dressed in a designer white shirt that contrasted beautifully with his golden skin. Tight black pants and brown boots showed off the lean shape and length of his legs, making them look endless. His artfully styled hair was pushed back so that Zayn could clearly see his bushy eyebrows, wide eyes and kind smile. He was fucking gorgeous. 

The man, Mr Payne, looked around the club for a moment, looking a little lost, until his eyes fell on Yaser. He immediately strode over, a definite power in each step. “Hello, Sir,” he greeted when he was close enough to be heard. He had a thick, low accent, and his lips moved with every syllable in the most enticing way Zayn had ever seen.

“Liam, nice to see you,” Zayn’s father exclaimed, patting the man on the back. “This is my son, Zayn. He’ll be joining the company once he finishes school.”

Liam’s eyes fell on him. Zayn felt his cheeks heat as dark eyes assessed his tight shirt, round cheeks and intensified youth in comparison to the men he was standing with. Liam looked almost bewildered, eyes not leaving Zayn even once his father started talking again.

“What do you think of the club, Liam?” Yaser asked, waving at the room around them. “Like what you see?”

“I do,” Liam said earnestly, eyes still raking over Zayn. He abruptly turned away, finally taking notice of the club. “Lots of lights,” he observed. 

George snorted and failed to cover it up as a laugh. Liam frowned at him.

“Of course, this is just how it’s set up for tonight,” Yaser assured him. “The room itself is quite plain, so it can be designed and re-designed at every whim.”

“Who designed it tonight?” Liam asked. A tray of drinks were offered to him, but he politely declined. 

“Combination of people,” Yaser shrugged. “Would you like to sit down somewhere?”

“I think I’ll go grab a drink from the bar, then come meet you,” Liam said. Zayn frowned at him – the waiter had just offered him a drink. Liam turned to Zayn, even as he still spoke to his father. “Mind if I borrow your son?”

Yaser looked delighted by this. “Yes, of course. Zayn, help Mr Payne find the bar.”

The bar was literally fifteen feet from them, clearly visible, but Zayn wasn’t about to turn down a trip with the Greek God that was standing before him. Up close he was impossibly more attractive, with thick arms and a strong jaw alluding to his strength while his round nose and adorable birthmark saved him from looking intimidating. His shirt was unbuttoned enough to show a smattering of chest hair. Zayn wondered when exactly he decided he was into that. 

“Follow me, Mr Payne,” Zayn said with a smirk. He led the way, making sure to sway his hips a little as he walked. More hands reached out for him as he navigated himself through the throng of bodies, but the owners of said hands seemed to take one look behind him before decidedly backing off. 

When they got to the bar, Liam looked down at Zayn expectantly. “What’re you drinking?”

“Haven’t had a drink all night,” Zayn told him, batting his eye lashes a little. What Zayn wants, Zayn gets.

“Let’s keep it that way, I think,” Liam said, almost to himself. He nodded at the bartender to catch his attention. “Gin and tonic, and a coke.” 

Zayn leaned against the bar as the bartender walked away. “What if I prefer lemonade?” he asked teasingly. 

“Then I’d buy you every drop of lemonade in this building,” Liam said, shrugging. He looked over Zayn’s body again, eyes dark. “How old are you?”

“Old enough,” Zayn told him. 

“Are you legal?” Liam asked.

Zayn assumed he wasn’t talking about the legal drinking age. “Yep.”

“Good.”

Their drinks were passed over then. Neither of them made a move to go back to Zayn’s dad. 

“So, Zayn,” Liam said after he’d taken a sip of his drink. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Truthfully?” Zayn asked. Liam nodded. “I’d much prefer to be taken back to your place, if I’m honest.”

Liam grinned at that, taking another sip. “I think your father may not approve of that.”

“I think my father can’t disapprove of something he doesn’t know about,” Zayn countered. He stepped a little closer, fingers trailing over Liam’s wrist idly. “Are you enjoying yourself, Liam?”

“Let’s just say that my mood’s been drastically improved,” Liam said. He nodded to Zayn’s untouched glass. “Drink up, babe.”

“Yes Sir,” Zayn smirked. He placed the straw between his lips, making sure to hold eye contact as he sucked. Liam looked enthralled when Zayn moaned and fluttered his eyes shut. 

“Malik,” a familiar voice shouted over the booming music. Zayn turned to Louis with a groan, wondering when he could be left alone for five minutes. 

“What?” Zayn snapped at him.

“I’m giving you your phone back,” Louis said, dropping the device into Zayn’s hand with narrowed eyes. “Drop the attitude. You’re free to go home.”

“Thanks,” Zayn said. Louis nodded curtly at Liam before scampering off, probably to fulfil some other request of Yaser’s. Zayn turned to Liam, swirling the straw around his drink while he cocked his head to the side. “What do you say, Mr Payne? You ready to leave?”

Liam’s gaze was tracking the Zayn’s fingers on the straw. “I think I can have the car meet us in five minutes.”

When Zayn was standing outside the back entrance waiting, it occurred to him that he just stole his father’s possible business associate away from him. Ah well, he’d mentioned that tonight was about impressing Liam rather than beginning negotiations. And Zayn fully intended on impressing him.

A sleek black car pulled up in front of him. The backseat door opened and Liam was peering out, raising his eyebrows at Zayn as he beckoned him over. Zayn got into the car, making a show of climbing over Liam to get to his seat. 

“Your place or mine?” Liam asked once Zayn’s seatbelt was done up.

“Yours,” Zayn said immediately. “My younger sisters will probably be heading home soon.”

“You have three sisters, right?” Liam asked. Zayn nodded but didn’t go into detail. He didn’t want to talk about them right now. 

Liam told the driver to take them ‘back home’. Zayn wondered distantly if the driver would tell the press about this, but then there was a warm, large hand on his knee and he stopped thinking all together. 

Liam’s hand stayed there for a moment, just as a warm presence that had Zayn’s heart shuddering a little quicker. Zayn grabbed Liam’s hand and tried to move it lower, but Liam’s fingers stayed firmly in place. “Be patient,” Liam murmured lowly in his ear before kissing the patch of skin below his lobe gently. 

Zayn shivered, eyes closing for a moment. “I’m not a very patient guy, Mr Payne.”

“You’re going to wish you were,” Liam said. His lips were so close that Zayn could feel them brushing lightly against the curve of his ear. Zayn didn’t know what he meant, but he sure wanted to find out.

The drive to Liam’s apartment was excruciatingly long, mainly because Liam’s didn’t move his hand at all the whole time. Zayn was going crazy just from the simple touch, maddening as the minutes ticked by. And, embarrassing as it was, he could feel his dick beginning to thicken from the contact. He couldn’t help but dig a palm into his crotch to try and relieve the pressure.

“Stop,” Liam said immediately. Zayn paused, wide-eyed. “Patience, Zayn. Tonight we’re on my terms.”

The really fucking turned Zayn on. Which sucked because now Liam was watching him to make sure he didn’t touch himself. 

“Back entrance, please, Max,” Liam told the driver. They were outside a huge, expensive-looking apartment building that had a handful of paps waiting outside the door. The driver drove around the side of it, ducking into a deserted alleyway and arriving outside a set of less visible doors. Liam unbuckled his and Zayn’s seatbelts at the same time, still talking to the driver. “Feel free to do whatever for a couple of hours. I’ll call you again later tonight.”

And then he was pulling Zayn out of the car and into the building by his elbow. 

The lobby was well lit and modern, all grey walls and gold and black trimming. There was a single other person that Zayn could see whom was in the lobby, a woman slightly older than him that looked to be running the front desk. Zayn didn’t get a chance to see whether she was aware they were there before Liam was pulling him into an elevator.

The gold lights in the elevator were illuminating Liam’s skin, making it almost glow in contrast to his white shirt. Zayn stepped closer, reaching out a hand to run over Liam’s chest, or arm, or something. Liam caught his hand before he could make contact. 

“My terms, Zayn,” he told him. And then he was crowding Zayn into the back wall of the elevator, pinning his hands above his head and kissing him. 

It was a rough, biting kiss, with plenty of tongue and teeth. Zayn made a small, keening noise when Liam but his bottom lip between his teeth, and tried to buck his hips into Liam’s. Liam pulled away all together, just in time for the elevator to stop. Liam typed a code into a small screen. Zayn grasped when the doors opened.

Zayn had been surrounded by riches his entire life. He’d grown up with his own room, was given everything he asked for, and had dozens of paid staff doting on him from the moment he was bought home from the hospital. But this apartment- fuck. 

It was made very clear to Zayn that they were on the top floor by the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows. The view was spectacular, overlooking the city, high enough that no-one could look in. The door had opened straight into the living room. A small bar was on one side and a bookshelf on the other. There was a lowered platform that was covered with soft-looking white carpet lining the floor, and plush grey couches surrounding a glass coffee table. Three wooden two wooden doors were along the same wall as the bookshelf, and an open doorway next to the bar gave Zayn a glimpse of a kitchen. And this couldn’t even make up a fifth of the apartment.

“This place is amazing,” Zayn said in awe. His eyes were wandering over photos of Liam and his family, friends, a couple of dogs. He wondered where they were if they weren’t here.

“I prefer my house more, but this one is way more convenient with work,” Liam told him. 

“You have a house?” Zayn asked, distracted as he ran his hand along the bookshelf, looking at titles of books he’d never heard of. More photos sat in frames in between books. Zayn particularly took note of one of a younger Liam, maybe his age, in a batman suit that clung snugly to his body. 

“I do,” Liam said. He was pouring himself a drink when Zayn turned.

Zayn watched as his throat moved with the first sip. “Where abouts?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Liam said, moving to walk down the few stairs onto the lowered platform. He put his glass down on the table when he sat. “C’mere.”

He was patting his legs. Zayn didn’t hesitate in wondering over to straddle him, sitting back on Liam’s knees with his calves on either side of his strong thighs. Liam’s hands came up to rest on his hips for a moment before he started running them up and down Zayn’s legs.

His lips looked full and an obscene shade of pink. Soft light cast a side of Liam’s face in shadows, sharpening his jaw and highlighting the curve of his throat. Zayn really wanted to kiss him.

“Can I kiss you?” Zayn asked softly. He reached out a hand to rest it on Liam’s firm shoulder. Liam didn’t push it off like Zayn almost expected him too. 

“Of course,” Liam said. Zayn didn’t need to be told twice. He surged forward, lips hungry as he licked over Liam’s teeth and moaned into his mouth. Liam was insistent on slowing the kiss, though, by being patient with his responses and not opening his mouth until Zayn was calm and docile. And when his mouth did open, he took over the kiss. Zayn felt drunk on the man’s dominance, wanting to chase the strong taste of his tongue but consistently being pushed back every time he tried. 

He whined impatiently after the fifth time Liam had refused to let him explore his mouth. “Please, Liam,” he groaned. He tried to capture Liam’s lips again, but the man ducked down and started sucking under his jaw instead. Zayn mewled in surprise at the contact. 

“I told you to be patient, Zayn,” Liam murmured against his skin. Zayn grasped again as Liam licked open-mouth kisses across his neck, making Liam groan and shift. “Fuck, I want to ruin you.”

“Then do it,” Zayn sighed out, holding the back of Liam’s neck when the man started sucking a bruise into the spot beneath his ear. Zayn’s hips twitched forward involuntarily when Liam looked up at him with disapproving eyes. 

“You’re not in charge here,” Liam growled.

Zayn met his stare evenly. “Prove it.” 

Liam pulled him in by the tie, mouths colliding together with bruising force. Zayn could feel Liam’s hands now around his throat. He was confused for a moment before he felt his tie loosening and then being pulled off all together. Zayn started to ruck his shirt out of his pants but Liam beat him to it, batting his hands away while he undid the buttons himself. He all but ripped the shirt from his shoulders when he was done. Zayn helped him along, holding his arms behind him so it was easier to get the shirt off. He went to go back to touching Liam, but the man kept his hands behind his back with one hand while the other grabbed the tie to bind his wrists together. 

Zayn pulled back in shock. “What are you-”

“You told me to prove it,” Liam said, making sure the tie was nice and tight. “I’m proving it.”

Liam’s hands scrawled back around to Zayn’s front. He scratched lightly at the exposed skin, smiling as Zayn shuddered. When his thick fingers started to tweak Zayn’s nipples, the boy dropped his head onto Liam’s shoulder and let out a high, aborted noise. He could feel Liam getting hard beneath him, and it was driving him crazy seeing their erections so close but so far away. 

“Want me to fuck you here?” Liam murmured, lips against his skin. “Where you can look out the window and see the city when I make you scream my name?”

Zayn whimpered against Liam’s shoulder, the man still scratching and sucking his exposed skin. 

“Or do you want me to take you to my room, and fuck you into the mattress?” Liam asked. His voice was low, the deep baritone of it doing things to Zayn. “Make you feel so good.” 

“Bedroom,” Zayn gasped out, wishing so badly that he could touch Liam. 

Liam had to physically lift Zayn off him because Zayn couldn’t coordinate his movements without the use of his arms, and then he lifted Zayn off the couch and into his arms, allowing Zayn to wrap his legs around his waist. Liam was so focussed on keeping Zayn upright that he couldn’t do anything about Zayn grinding against him. Both of them let out groans at the friction and, much to Zayn’s delight, he was able to continue rubbing against him for the entire length of time it took to climb the short flight of stairs out of the platform, walk across the room, open the door closest to the bookshelf, walk through that room, and then have Liam gently lay him on the bed. Zayn had his arms pinned uncomfortably underneath him. Liam watched him squirm with dark eyes, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and dropping it to the ground.

Zayn stopped squirming at the sight of Liam’s body: thick, clearly defined abs, golden skin that remained consistent over his skin, a thick smattering of chest hair, perfectly cut hips, and a glorious happy trail connecting his navel to somewhere beneath his pants. Zayn wanted Liam to fuck him raw.

“So pretty,” Liam murmured, looking down at Zayn with hooded eyes. “Sort of want to mess you up.”

Zayn didn’t know what to say, so he turned himself over so his arms weren’t being completely crushed by his body. He took the time to observe the bed he was on – thick red duvet, a bunch of pillows, four-poster. It was huge, too, definitely king size. The walls of the room were light grey, and there was a bedside table on either side of the frame. He didn’t get a chance to look at much else, though, because suddenly Liam was pulling him up the bed by his legs. 

“Hands and knees,” Liam directed him. “So I can get your pants off.”

Zayn complied, shivering as the man’s large hands skimmed over his waist, his hips, over the front of his jeans. One hand cupped him while the other undid his zip and button. Zayn felt short of breath. Liam pulled off his jeans and briefs together. He had to manhandle Zayn write a bit to get the clothing past his knees and ankles, but seemed to enjoy the control almost as much as Zayn liked to relinquish it.

Zayn could feel the bed dip and the heat from Liam’s legs as the man settled behind him. His hands were skirting up and done Zayn’s back and legs, pressing at some points and feathery light at others. Zayn was squirming more than a little, cheeks flushed. “Are you just going to feel me up all night?” Zayn asked impatiently. “Because I was told you were going to fuck me.”

“How long until you need to be back home?” Liam asked. He was now leaning down, stubble rubbing against the back of Zayn’s thighs as he mouthed along Zayn’s skin. 

Zayn was shivering from the touch, forcing himself not to push back against Liam’s face. “Couple hours,” he answered through clenched teeth. 

Liam sighed a little, biting just below the curve of Zayn’s ass. “I was going to take my time here, but sounds like we don’t have long.”

Zayn was tempted to say something back, but suddenly Liam was spreading his cheeks and running the pad of his tongue over his hole. Zayn gasped out, falling flat onto his stomach in surprise. He tried to get on his knees to push back, but Liam’s tongue was now diving in, making Zayn’s legs boneless and unable to do anything but swim around on the sheets in search of purchase. The tie bit into his wrists in his failed attempts to break free. He felt completely helpless, but fuck he liked it. 

“Liam,” he mewled, mouth ajar where his cheek was pressed into the mattress. Liam just hummed against him, causing Zayn to moan lowly. He felt the tie loosening around his wrists when Liam pulled away from him. “Thank fuck,” Zayn groaned, gently rubbing his sore wrists on the soft duvet. 

“You going to behave, then?” Liam asked him. 

Zayn grinned at him over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t like me so much if I did.” 

The smirk was wiped off his face when Liam flipped him over, putting the strength in his arms to use. Zayn felt his mouth go slack while he watched his biceps tense and flex. And then he looked up at Liam’s face, so close to his own, and his brain seemed to short-circuit impossibly more. 

Liam’s eyebrows were bushy but neat, framing his wide, earnest eyes that seemed to be amused at Zayn. His nose was round but worked in perfect contrast with his sharp jawline and thick, groomed beard, both complimenting each other. And then there was his lips, smirking down at him, pink and thick and shiny, inviting Zayn to kiss him. And so he did. 

“I think you should ride me,” Liam said between kisses. Zayn was drunk on his mouth, unable to respond. “But first I want to suck you off until you cry.” 

“You talk a lot, Mr Payne,” Zayn observed. “But I’m not seeing much action.” 

Liam raised an eyebrow at the challenge, a look of determination in his eyes that made Zayn’s dick twitch. The man crawled down Zayn’s body, spreading his legs by nudging his knees. “Hope you’re comfortable,” Liam whispered, eyes glinting. 

“Hope you’re as good as you think you are,” Zayn retorted. Liam shook his head in amusement, grabbing Zayn’s cock firmly. His huge palm and long, thick fingers almost eclipsed the length of Zayn’s cock, and Zayn was embarrassed to admit that it turned him on so much. Liam seemed to be enthralled by it, too; he was watching Zayn’s cock with unbelievable focus as he began to stroke him, biting his lip as Zayn’s small dick disappeared into his tanned fist. He looked up at Zayn, eyes somehow still earnest while his lips were turned up in an almost arrogant smirk. He lowered his head, eyes still locked with Zayn’s and began mouthing at his head.

Zayn couldn’t help but throw his head back at the first hint of contact. Liam’s mouth was impossibly warm and wet, sending hot spurts of pleasure up Zayn’s body. He tongued at the slit with the sort of expertise that Zayn had dreamt of experiencing since he found out what a blowjob was, and Zayn was completely in awe. 

When Liam started taking him down further, Zayn sort of wished he’d kept his mouth shut. It had become clear to him that Liam had had plenty of practice in doing this, if the way he sucked more firmly on the up stroke was any hint. He was simultaneously able to run his tongue along the vein protruding the skin of Zayn’s heavy cock as he was able to hollow his cheeks, causing Zayn’s legs to kick out, unsure whether to urge him on or escape from the tight heat of his mouth. One of his hands was fisted in Liam’s short hair while he bit down on the other, trying to suppress the moans his body was being ripped of. Liam was having none of it, though; he reached up to grab both of Zayn’s hands, interlocked their fingers, and held them down while he kept on sucking. 

“Fuck, Liam,” Zayn cried out, shaking with the effort of containing all the arousal that was flowing through him. “You’re so fucking- you’re so- feels so…”

He knew he wasn’t speaking properly. He knew Liam would be smirking at him if he could, amused by the incoherent mess beneath him. But all Zayn could truly focus on was the pressure on his cock and how it felt when his head hit the back of Liam’s throat. And then went further.

Zayn had never been deep-throated in his life. There was nothing he could compare it to, the way Liam’s throat contracted against his cock, how the sounds of gagging created physical pressure around Zayn’s dick, the almost unbearable wetness that encompassed him. He tried to pull out of Liam’s grip to do something, no idea what but just needing something, but Liam held his hands firmly, looking up through his lashes with set determination. Zayn could only look down at him in exasperation for a few seconds before he had to look away from the image of Liam between his legs. 

Liam pulled off with an obscene ‘pop’. “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, mouth red and slick with spit. 

“I’d enjoy myself more if you finished what you started,” Zayn snapped, raising his head off the mattress to glare at Liam. His cock was throbbing painfully at this point, rock hard and resting heavily on his lower stomach. Zayn just wanted to cum. 

“You’ve got a foul mouth, Zayn,” Liam commented conversationally. 

“And you’ve got an amazing mouth,” Zayn retorted. “Now are you going to fuck me or what?”

Liam shrugged. “I’m going to make you cry, remember?” he said.

It didn’t take long. Liam built up a pattern, sucking Zayn low and swallowing around Zayn’s tip until Zayn was crying out, torso curling up while a white hot pressure built in his stomach, and then he was removing his mouth and leaving Zayn whining, bucking into the air. He’d wait until Zayn had dropped his hips again, breath heavy but no longer desperate, until he started sucking again. Sometimes he would take him down to the base and hold him there while Zayn writhed beneath him, other times he would bob his head with the sort of pace and rhythm he’s pretty sure Shrillex has copyright to. He kept Zayn on the edge when all Zayn wanted to do was fall over the edge, and Zayn was so unbearably hard that he let out a hiccup when Liam pulled back for the seventh time. 

Liam looked highly pleased by this. He watched Zayn for a few moments while the boy breathed in through his teeth, eyes dark and all too proud of himself. Zayn couldn’t even look at him when he sucked at his head again, if only because there were now unshed tears obscuring his vision. Liam didn’t go any further than the head. He just sucked and sucked and sucked until Zayn was sobbing, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Liam pulled away and climbed back up Zayn’s body, careful not to rub his body against Zayn’s cock. “You look so lovely, babe.” 

Zayn tried to glare and snap at him angrily, but all that came out was a beg. “Please leg me cum.”

Liam’s eyes softened at this. He kissed Zayn sweetly, hands releasing one of Zayn’s in favour of cupping his face gently. “Really soon, I promise,” he said. “Just a little longer.”

The man reached across Zayn’s body for the bedside table, opening a draw and digging around for a few moments before he was pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. He dropped the little foil package onto the bed, casting it aside in favour of slacking up his fingers and once again pushing Zayn’s legs apart. 

“Have you done this before?” Liam asked him, a single finger circling Zayn’s hole and driving him wild.

Zayn nodded, his body tense in anticipation. “Never been fucked, though.”

Liam nodded at this in acknowledgement before turning his focus completely to the task at hand. He slid one finger in, bare millimetres at a time, watching Zayn’s face contort from discomfort to pleasure to impatience as he thrust the digit as far as he could. He added a second finger when Zayn all but demanded it, kissing the boy’s hips to try and distract him from the pain. In took a while, but eventually Zayn was pushing down on his fingers, fucking himself and mewling loudly in the silent apartment. Liam pressed in a third finger without warning, causing Zayn to tense up again while he waited for the pain to ebb away back to pleasure. He found that the two now intermingled, both having equal effect on him.

“Liam, c’mon,” he whined, back arching when Liam’s fingers pushed against his sweet spot. Liam kept going. “I’m ready, babe. Fuck me already, Christ.”

Liam, surprisingly, didn’t give him another sermon about patience or something similar. Instead he removed his fingers (making Zayn whine in protest, much to the man’s apparent amusement) and tore open the condom wrapper. It was at this point that Zayn realised Liam’s dress pants and boxers were still on, albeit undone enough that Liam’s bulge was able to escape the confines of his clothing. Liam pushed his pants down just far enough to get his cock out, impatient to roll the condom on. He slicked himself up, pumping his long, fat cock that had Zayn shuddering at the sheer size of it. 

Liam climbed back up towards him. Zayn closed his eyes, waiting for Liam to align himself and push in, but instead felt a dip in the bed next to him. He opened his eyes and found Liam watching him, waiting. At Zayn’s confused look he gestured to his crotch. “Riding me, remember?”

Zayn was tempted to argue but found he was too horny but do anything other than climb on top of Liam and try to find a good position to balance. He grinned against Liam’s erect cock, feeling it rub against his crack obscenely. Liam groaned, fingers digging into Zayn’s hips. 

Zayn revelled in the contact but needed more. He grabbed Liam’s cock with one hand, pressing the other into Liam’s chest to balance himself as he positioned himself so he was sitting just on top of the tip. He held Liam’s dick tightly as he slowly suck down, until the majority was inside of him and he was free to slide down without risk of it falling out. Both of them groaned when Zayn bottomed out, the sound of their voices bouncing off the walls.

For a while, Zayn felt nothing but pain. His ass felt like it was being torn in two, the stretch too consuming. He dug his fingers into Liam’s chest, hissing through his teeth while he waited it out. Fresh tears were pooling in his eyes. He couldn’t believe how fucking painful it was. 

Liam kissed at his tears, murmuring encouragements and cooing softly. His strong hands were soft where they rubbed at Zayn’s back, and Zayn appreciated the contact. “It gets better,” Liam assured. “I promise you, it’ll feel good really soon.”

Another minute or so and Zayn felt like he might be able to move without dying. He lifted himself a few inches and dropped again, distantly hearing Liam moan in approval another, smaller spike of pain shot up his spine. It wasn’t unbearable, though, so Zayn repeated the moment, switching his position slightly to try and get more comfortable before he dropped down again. He landed straight on his prostate.

“Fuck,” he cried out, cock twitching as pleasure sparked through him. He aimed for that spot again, groaning lowly while Liam smiled in approval.

He started really moving after that, bouncing on Liam’s cock while he worked out what was best for him. He was suddenly extremely thankful that Liam wanted to do it this way, allowing Zayn to take control and go at his own pace. Liam’s hands came to rests on his hips, not trying to urge or guide him in any way but rather just to stabilise him. Zayn kept bouncing on his dick, a constant stream of curses and Liam’s name on his tongue. 

His cock was fattening again rapidly, hanging uselessly between them and occasionally rubbing against Liam’s abs, leaving little smears of precum. Liam seemed to become aware of it at the same time Zayn did, wrapping a firm hand around him. He didn’t tease or build up to a rhythm, instead pumping Zayn quickly from the get-go. Zayn alternated between thrusting up into Liam’s fist and fucking down on his cock, lost in how good it all felt.

Nothing could have prepared him for how good his orgasm felt. The coil that had been building in his stomach seemed to unravel all at once without warning, exploding inside of him until his entire body was encompassed in pleasure, dick twitching and body convulsing as thick streams of cum spilt over Liam’s hand and abdomen, all the while a high, drawn-out mewl was produced by his gaping mouth. 

Liam fucked him through it, and then kept fucking up into him even once Zayn stopped shuddering. He kept up an unrelenting pace as Zayn’s head dropped down into the crook of his neck, unable to do anything but lay there while Liam chased his own orgasm. The most he could do was clench around him, try and add extra pressure. 

“Fuck, Zayn!” Liam groaned when he finally released, head thrown back into the pillow while his cock pulsed in Zayn. Zayn was barely still awake, but had just enough strength in him to rise and drop his hips a few times, helping to fuck Liam through the onslaught of after-shocks. 

Even once it was clear Liam was finished, they both just laid there, heartbeats slowing and breath evening as the seconds ticked by. Liam’s hands came to rub at Zayn’s back again, pausing at Zayn’s initial shudder from how sensitive he is, but then continuing when Zayn nudged his nose against the man’s neck.

“Was it okay?” Liam asked him softly after a couple of minutes. 

Zayn was struggling to keep his eyes open. “”s amazing,” he slurred, voice thick.

Liam gently rolled him onto his back and slid out of him so that he could tie the condom and chuck it into a nearby waste bin, presumably. Zayn turned over and opened his eyes to see Liam looking at his phone before he clicked it off, turning back to Zayn with a sigh. “Nearly midnight, baby,” Liam told him. “You need to get going before you get in trouble.”

“Don’t wanna leave,” Zayn said, looking up through his lashes at Liam sleepily. Later he might be embarrassed about how small and vulnerable he sounded, but right now, in his blessed out state, he just wanted to be honest. 

Liam carded a hand through Zayn’s sweaty hair, smiling down at him softly. “Don’t want you to leave,” he said. It sounded like an admission Zayn shouldn’t have heard. “But I don’t want you to get grounded and not be able to come over again.”

“You want me to come back?” Zayn asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Liam said earnestly. He released a breath, shaking his head as though to clear himself of a thought while he pushed himself off the bed. “Come on,” he said, a little louder. “Let’s get you dressed and call the car.”

The car picked him up from around the back again, where Zayn stood shivering despite his still-sweating skin and Liam’s warm arm around his waist. Liam ushered him into the car, and closed the door quickly. Zayn rolled down the window, gazing up at the man.

“When can I see you again?” Zayn asked him, hating how needy he sounded. Liam smiled like he liked it. 

“Soon,” Liam answered. He leaned down so that he could kiss Zayn softly, making Zayn wish again that he could just stay. “I’ll call you,” he added when he pulled back. 

“You better,” Zayn said, settling properly into his seat. He’d given Liam his number, his real number (unlike what he gave other guys he hooked up with), and maybe the significance of that was lost on Liam, but he truly did hope the man called him. Tonight had been amazing, and he didn’t exactly like the idea of this being the only night he could experience so much. 

Liam stayed outside and waved until the car turned the corner and Zayn couldn’t see him anymore. Zayn looked at the reflection the tinted windows offered him. His shirt was untucked and wrinkled, and his tie as equally limp. His hair was sweaty and had long lost the perfect styling he had devoted to it at the start of the night. There were visible bruises on his glistening skin – thankfully ones he could hide with the right shirt, but there no less. He knew that his eyes would be slitted and red-rimmed like they always were after he’d been crying. He also knew that he looked incredibly fucked out, and that unless he could sneak into his room without anyone seeing him, people would be able to tell exactly what he’d been up to the whole night. He found that he didn’t really care. 

There was a buzzing in his pocket. A simple ‘I’ll see you soon –L xx’ lit up the screen from an unknown number. Zayn didn’t hesitate before texting back exactly what he plans on doing to the man next time they meet. Liam didn’t hesitate in cursing him out for making him hard again. 

The whole way back to the club, Zayn never stopped grinning.


End file.
